


Scars

by michmak



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michmak/pseuds/michmak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her dark hair is soft against his chest, and smells oddly of fresh rain fall, even though it's been almost two years since Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> The germ of this story was formed after Helo and Sharon retrieved their daughter, because I started wondering how Helo would be able to reconcile the fact that he had to kill Sharon - or at least the current version of her - in order to have a chance at regaining the daughter they thought had died.

The scar on his leg will never go away. It's a remnant of the day the worlds ended and a reminder of when his life began. He doesn't mind the puckered flesh, slightly discoloured and ropey-looking; even though it itches when he's chilled. He views the scar as the price he had to pay for his second chance at a new life, and even though it happened on the worst day ever in the history of the colonies, he doesn't associate it with regret.

It is dark in their bunk, and she is sleeping curled up against him, one leg thrown over his own. Her dark hair is soft against his chest, and smells oddly of fresh rain fall, even though it's been almost two years since Caprica. He can feel the sleepy heat of her gentle breathing tickling across his sternum; sees the slight flicker of movement underneath her eyelids, and wonders what she dreams about.

A large hand runs gently up her warm back, trailing underneath the heavy curtain of hair, to rub against her shoulder. He remembers what the scar she used to have there felt like, and strokes the now-smooth flesh with both wonder and regret. He can feel her waking up, feels her move against him, but continues to stroke her skin anyway.

"Helo," her voice is husky with half-remembered dreams as she cuddles her body more firmly against his, tilting her head on his chest until he can see her eyes, half-open and glinting in the darkness of their room. His fingers brush over the spot where the scar used to be again, and she sighs. "Don't," she murmurs, "don't."

"But…"

"The scar never bothered me."

"Sharon…"

"I didn't mind it Helo, because it meant I was still alive. It meant even when you were furious with me, you couldn't kill me. And when you bandaged it up, I knew that you loved me. No regrets."

He sighs and closes his eyes. He wants to tell her that he's not stroking her skin where the scar used to be because he regrets shooting her that long-ago day on Caprica. He does regret it of course, but that's not the point. He misses the scar she used to have there for exactly the same reason it never bothered her – it was proof that he couldn't kill her, because he loved her.

He hopes the other scar– the one that never had the chance to form on her skin the time he did kill her – means the same thing.


End file.
